


Drabble #29

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: Drabbles [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s13e22 Exodus, Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Gen, filler scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:51:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14834358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: Inspired by this gifset: http://thelittleredwhocould.tumblr.com/post/174523138967/demondetoxmanual-gif-project-winchester-style





	Drabble #29

Sam spends what feels like hours, and yet nowhere near long enough, scrubbing himself down the best he could with a bucket and rag, rubbing his neck until the skin was pink. By some miracle, Dean found clothes in Sam’s size and they’re sitting on the cracked bathroom counter. The borrowed shirt is surprisingly clean, a welcome change, and the jeans are a little tight around the thighs, but they’re better than nothing.

He begins folding his old clothes, putting off facing the camp-  _ Lucifer _ \- for just a little bit longer. He should throw them out, really. Everything is filthy and no amount of laundry detergent is likely to get them clean. Plus, it’s just more stuff to carry around.

Right?

Still, Sam finds himself lingering over his shirt. It’s soaked in blood, now dry, and the age-softened fabric is stiff. He fingers the middle button, the one Amelia sewed back on for him all those years ago, and all the places where Dean patched up a fraying seam.

A knock startles him from this thoughts. “Hey, Sammy, you drowning in there?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You can come in.”

Dean closes the door behind him. “You look better. Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Sam shrugs. He’s still holding his shirt.

“Wanna come join the party? Dinner should be ready soon.” Dean’s eyes land on the pile of clothes. “Should probably burn those or something, huh?”

Sam nods, staring down at the plaid fabric in his hands.

“Shit,” Dean murmurs. “That’s your favorite shirt, isn’t it?”

Another tiny nod.

“Well, let me see what the damage is.” Dean takes the shirt and holds it up. “Hmm. That’s pretty bad, but I think I could salvage it.”

“You think so?” Sam does his best to keep the hopefulness out of his voice- it’s just a shirt, for God’s sake- but he’s pretty sure he failed.

“I’ll pull out every trick I know,” Dean tells him. “Come on, pack it up. I’m hungry and I know you are, too.”

* * *

 

It took hours, apparently, and every method Dean, Mary, and several of the women from the alternate world could think of, but Sam walks into the library to see Dean holding a clean brown plaid up in triumph.

“Told ya I could do it,” Dean says, his smile bigger than Sam’s seen it in a while.

Sam takes the shirt in one hand, wrapping his other arm around Dean’s shoulders in a hug. “I never doubted you once.”


End file.
